Life Lessons
by Popkat
Summary: What would a bored Soldier do with the leader of his greatest fighters in a room for three hours before they go into a decisive battle that may or may not change the future of mankind? Slight Tony/Jomy. Fluff?


Jomy's desk wasn't the cleanest of work places; it was adorned with toys, small pieces of paper, candy wrappers, unfinished paperwork, paper planes and flowers, paper boats made from the unfinished paperwork, and a stain that came from god knows where, just to name a few. Tony found it amusing that recently, even though the only remotely close to an emotion he was able to convey was irritation, the blonde was positively restless. He'd reach out and grab a random object, shake it, stare at it for a while, maybe scratch the paint a little, then put it down to snatch another object. Tony found it cute that Jomy had more childish mannerisms than him, and _he_ was still getting used to this "older body" business!

"How many hours until we reach Pluto?" Jomy inquired, breaking the deafening silence. Just as quickly, Tony responded, "Harley said three more."

Then, Jomy made a face. Tony tried his best not to stifle a laugh because despite neglecting to respond, Jomy's expression was enough to say it all. It was along the lines of, "Three!? Three! What the hell am I supposed to do in three goddamn hours!?"

Jomy sighed and decided to introduce his palm to his forehead the fourth time that day. During the introduction, his eyes caught sight of something around Tony's wrist: a rubber band. Rubber band? Yes, and there was a comb and a mirror on the far end of his desk. Huh. Rubber band. Comb. Mirror. Silky salmon pink hair.

…Click. It was then Jomy's mind finally hatched the most wonderful idea to pass the time.

"Tony..," his voice had a fake, soft edge to it, endearing, and Tony noticed it was the tone usually used when someone needed something from someone else. "Tony, did you ever get your hair braided before?"

That was random. Still, he felt compelled to reply, even if it seemed like Jomy was currently off his rockers because of boredom.

"Mama used to braid them when I was younger."

"I see. So I can braid them?"

"You can cut them off if you want! I mean, it's just _hair_."

"I just want to braid them. Hold on."

Tony stayed put and watched Jomy scramble to his feet and practically run behind him. Using his powers, the mirror started floating in front of Tony so he would be able to look at Jomy's work.

"Grandpa, should I stand up?"

"No. Sit down. You're several inches taller than me, how can I braid it if I have to reach up?"

He was right, but it wasn't his fault that he was taller than him. In a way, it was, but that wasn't the point.

The silence that ensued wasn't as awkward as the previous one; this one was kind of nice. It was a mutual silence, as if they were just simply enjoying each other's company.

Jomy was combing his hair. Finally, _finally_, he had Grandpa's complete and undivided attention; to be specific, his hair did, and not him in general. Still, it was pretty close.

The combing felt nice, it slowly started to lull Tony to sleep. He felt relaxed. Sure, he was going to fight a little later and there was a huge possibility that he might die, but at the moment, all was right in the world. He would've fallen into a light nap, in fact, if Jomy didn't suddenly violently _tug_ his hair. The sudden motion woke him up; removing every trace of the relaxed state he was in earlier.

Jomy didn't stop, oh no. He kept tugging until Tony was sure that a few more tugs would make him instantly bald. Tug. "Ow!" Tug. "Augh!" Tug. "Ouch! Grandpa!" Tug. "Stop!" …Tug, just for good measure.

"Jomy, why are you trying to uproot my hair…?" He asked in the calmest way possible. Jomy scowled, but a blush was evident on his cheeks.

…_Oh_.

"Grandpa, you don't know a thing about braiding hair, do you?" Jomy just pouted, and that was all the answer that Tony needed. He stood up and gestured the older man to sit down. For some unfathomable reason, Jomy obeyed.

He kneeled in front of Jomy, reaching out to pick some of his longer bangs. "What are you doing?" Tony just smiled cheekily at him. "I'm teaching you how to properly braid hair. Right, first rule: don't tug someone's hair because it's not going to submit to you and braid itself." He heard Jomy mumble an, "I knew that."

The scene that followed felt so… surreal to Tony. Usually, he'd be the one looking up to face Jomy, not the other way around. They were waiting for an epic battle, and there they were, having a small lesson about how to properly braid hair. It was adorable, Tony thought, that Jomy tried to conceal the interested look on his face. Guess behind this new mask, Jomy was still the same old Jomy he knew and loved, huh?

"Did you get it?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I got it." Jomy snapped. He was confused about some things, but he'd rather not ask Tony about them. He had his manly pride to keep, after all. He quickly removed the braided state his bangs were in, which Tony used as a visual example. They switched positions again, with Jomy back behind Tony and Tony seated. He began to tentatively braid the other's hair, quietly repeating the procedure to himself.

"No, Grandpa, you're not supposed to-"

"I can do this. I don't need you to coach me."

After Jomy killed a good two hours, and maybe even a handful of the other's hair, he was done braiding it. Tony had fallen into a light sleep, and Jomy had to tap his shoulder to wake him up.

"Finished."

"Huh?" Oh, right, Jomy braided his hair. He took a few seconds to look at what the other did. It was downright horrible; there were strands of hair sticking out from random places, there were a few parts that didn't get included, and usually the braid that followed was disproportional to the previous one.

He was able to tell Jomy's personality from that; when he started, it looked terrible, but as it progressed lower and lower, it slowly became better and better. In fact, only the last two parts looked half-decent. It showed that through the mistakes we made in the past, we have to learn from it and keep moving forward because, in life, there are no reset buttons, no re-dos. The braid itself was a good life lesson, but not much of a hairstyle.

"Do you like it?"

"Grandpa, you suck at this."

"…shut up."

"Oh, but that's okay! I still love you, anyway."

"I told you to shut up."

The slight flush told Tony otherwise.

**END**

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**Author's Note**: ... I... only have my f-list in LiveJournal to blame for this.


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